Between Enemies and Friends
by ShadowsWeaver1
Summary: Sesshomaru finds his sanctuary being defiled by an unwanted presence, but in the time it takes him to decide what to do about the intrusion, he makes some unexpected revelations.
1. Chapter 1: Between Enemies and Friends

This is just a little idea that popped into my head one day, and rather than let it go to waste, I thought I'd put it to paper (or in this case computer, but you get the idea). I had initially planned for this to be a full-length story, but when I got to what would be the end of the first chapter I liked what I had so much I didn't want to ruin it with the inevitable story line that would be forced to follow the encounter.

Ah, but things didn't go quite as planned. I had an inspiration to continue this piece. Though I still managed to forgo any real plot, I have added quite a bit of angst, character death, a bit of yaoi, and a nice happy ending, all rolled up in a song-fic in the second chapter. So I hope it is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Well duh! I mean how many times can you actually read these stories and not figure out this little piece of info. The again I really don't want to get sued or anything, so I suppose its better to be safe than sorry. So I'll repeat, I DON'T OWN INUYASHA or any of the characters, or have any affiliation with the writer, animators, producers, character actors….and you get the idea. I'm just a half-crazed, terribly obsessed, fanfic writer, who happens to be the author of this particular bit of rip-off art.

I thank you for your time (though I'm sure that barely anyone read all that cause I know I sure don't) and now without further a due, I'll send you to the story.

**Between Enemies and Friends**

The night was unusually still, but in the darkness the restlessness of unseen creatures could be felt. The pungent aura of fear and anticipation hung heavily in the air; the sure sign that something big was coming; something that would not be ignored.

A cold wind suddenly burst though the trees stirring up dead leaves that had fallen in the wake of the poisonous miasma that had retreated through the area. The breeze pulled at long flowing tresses of silver, tossing them in a wild dance before gingerly retreating, knowing that even the formless wind could fall mercy to the wrath of the creature on which it had attempted its assault. As the wind withdrew it carried away with it the last of the foulness which he had pursued.

"Kagura"

The name slipped from his lips like a curse, each syllable dripping with venom. The wind sorceress had taken with her retreating form the last of her evil master's trail, leaving him only with the smoldering hatred of his enemy.

The demon within him burned for its release, raging at him for its liberation so that it might tear apart anything so unfortunate to cross his path, but he refused to allow himself to sink so low as to submit to the beast within. He quickly composed himself, easily sliding back into his stoic and untouchable image that he had so ingrained upon himself.

He appeared as the perfect figure of strength, grace, and beauty, with only the fierce burning in his deep amber eyes to give away his fury. He hated that he had been reduced to chasing a pathetic hanyou across the continent, but the wretched beast had dared to insult his honor by taking something of his in a foolish attempt to make him bow to another's wicked will. He was intent upon the slow and painful destruction of the foul creature, and even the thought of the tortures that he would inflict upon his enemy soothed the raging animal inside. For, he, Sesshomaru, Lord of the Western lands, would have his revenge; and nothing, and no one would take it from him.

But for the moment the despicable creature known as Naraku was beyond even his reach, and he had no choice but to wait for the next move to be made. Normally he would have indulged, and perhaps even enjoyed, a match of wits against a creature who had been foolish enough to choose him as an enemy, but he had long ago grown tired of Naraku's complete lack of honor. And the thought of the foul manner by which the demon shamelessly used trickery and deceit to fight his battles, frankly, disgusted the Lord.

While he would be the first to admit that he was not, by any measure, a saint, even among demons, there had always been a line that the Lord could not and would not cross. A line that was drawn by his own pride and by the noble blood of his father that ran through his veins: the line that spanned the distance between right and wrong.

Though he knew that he was never completely on the side of right in his actions, he also had never allowed himself to travel for long into the path of darkness, for he knew that no honor could be found on that path, and that it was a path he was only willing to take when it was absolutely necessary. For the most part, he like to settle himself into the spirals of grey that intertwined between the two worlds, not good and yet not evil. It was in this place that he could thrive, for here no single act could draw him down. He was free to do as he pleased, never having to dwell on the nagging afterthoughts that a conscience would bring were he to ever go against the side he had chosen; for he had never truly chosen a side.

In a way it gave him freedom: freedom to rule his lands with the necessary compassion for its inhabitants, and at the same time defend it with all the ferocity and merciless brutality needed to dispel any potential threats; freedom to claim what was his, and to protect it with all the power at his disposal; freedom to live as he saw fit, and to take the lives of those he deemed unworthy of possessing such a glorious gift. And Niraku was beyond unworthy, he was beneath scum, he was a scourge on his land, a vile plague upon his family, a sickening taint upon his dignity, and it would not be tolerated. Niraku would not only loose his miserable excuse for a life, but he would beg for the sweet release of death before the Western Lord had finished with him.

Sesshomaru's blood was on fire. He tried to erase the feelings of loathing and hatred that had resigned themselves within him by focusing his energy on moving swiftly across the land, but he couldn't shake the feelings. He knew that he could not return to his ward in such a state. He did not want to frighten or worry the poor child, nor did he want anyone see him so unnerved by such a pathetic creature. He needed to release some of his tension, and his yokari was demanding blood. Whether it be his own or another's, the demon inside would not be satisfied until it had been fed.

Sesshomru knew all too well the demands of the raging beast within, but he was not one to fall victim, even if it was to his own desires. The battle being waged between his mind and his inner demon was nothing new, it was a battle that he had fought his entire life, but one that would always be won by his inflexible will not to be controlled by his savage instincts. He just needed time to pull in the reins of his self-control, so he quickly changed his heading and set off to a place nearby where he could regain his composure.

The place he sought out was one of tranquility and beauty, a place where he often brought himself so that he could meditate undisturbed in the comforting blanket of nature's glory. He was beginning to calm down already as he remembered the soft rippling of the water as it lapped against the smooth surfaces of the rocks that had been steadily worn down by the long passage of time, and the soothing heat being brought up from the very heart of the earth that rose in wisps of light steam from the surface of the water. He closed his eyes remembering again the sweet music that had drifted through the rocks and trees surrounding the place as though it were singing a sweet lullaby that could only be heard by his ears, and he felt again the pad of soft grasses that would cushion him as he lay back on the ground and allowed the troubles of the world slip away from him.

He had found the small oasis many hundreds of years before, and from the moment he stepped foot into the wondrous place he knew that there he could find sanctuary from the chaos that was the world, there he would find peace even when his entire being was raging with the worst kinds of emotions. Normally, even as he approached his small patch of heaven on earth he would feel the troubles of his life slide away from his being; normally he would begin to feel an overpowering sense of contentment, but as he drew nearer on this night, all that he felt was rage.

His sharp senses told him that someone had disturbed his sanctuary. Someone had dared to cross the boundary of his secret world and taint it with their unworthy presence. Someone had awakened the wrath of the beast, and someone was going to pay dearly for their intrusion.

He drew nearer, silently stalking the prey that had dared to encroach upon his territory, but as he approached he realized that the scent of the being was familiar to him. It was the scent of a mortal; a mortal that he had encountered many times in his dealings with his half-breed brother. He knew that this particular mortal was unusually strong thanks to the many years of training to become a servant of Buddha, and a cursed hand that could not be taken lightly even by a demon as powerful as himself. His rage began to subside slightly as it was replaced by the feeling of anticipation for the ensuing battle; knowing that, though his opponent was a mere mortal, the monk had proved to be a warrior of some caliber, one that, in his unstable state of mind, he would truly enjoy bringing to his knees in submission and defeat.

Sesshomaru took great care to conceal himself as he approached, making sure that the monk would not notice his presence before he had determined the best way of dealing with the intrusion, but when he had finally come close enough to the monk to see him, all but some of the urge to lash out and strike down the offending human was lost to him.

He stopped dead in his tracks and watched with wondrous awe as the monk stepped gracefully though a well learned kata. The movements were perfect, each one possessing the firmness of strength and still maintaining the delicate fluidity of the ancient art. With every painfully slow step he could see the unfolding lotus flower. With every turn a new row of finely tuned muscles flexed beneath the salty flesh that glistened under the soft light of the moon. With every beat of the man's heart he could feel the rushing of his blood, and smell the heavy musk that resembled nothing he had ever known, and yet seemed to set fire to his senses like every joyous memory ever experienced rushing back to him at once. Every movement was beautiful and exhilarating, and the demon lord found himself so lost in the majestic motions that he forgot his anger in favor of appreciation of the dedication and determination of the young man that was performing for him the most exquisitely exotic dance he had ever seen.

Miroku kept his breathing deep and his mind locked in unwavering and unbreakable concentration as he progressed though the form. He could feel the painful cries of his muscles begging him to stop, and the burning of his eyes caused by the drops of sweat that had dripped down from his brow into them, but he refused to relent. This time was his to control.

With Naraku's disappearance he had found himself yet again at the mercy of the hourglass as the sands of his life were slowly pulled down into the hideous void of his cursed hand. With his fate looming closer than ever, he had become quite hard-pressed to continue the charade of impassive contentment that he always wore while in the presence of others.

But in this place, he felt as though the sands of time had slowed, or perhaps even stopped completely. This beauteous, peaceful place gifted him with something he had never been so bold as to hope for: freedom. Freedom from the curse of his life, freedom form the hopeless battle against time, freedom to be nothing more than a man, freedom to find peace with himself. It was for this feeling of freedom that he continued, for he knew that once he stopped, once he gave in to the demands of his body, his soul would once again be consumed by the ever descending darkness of his miserable fate.

Sesshomaru watched the monk fight an unwinable battle against the frailties of his human nature, finding a disturbing amount of satisfaction in the way the man before him seemed impervious to his own limitations and continued through stance after stance as though each were his first and his last. He had never imagined that a lesser creature such as the human before him could capture his interest so intently.

He had always dismissed mortals for their weakness, never allowing himself to see anything beyond their fragile forms and volatile emotions. But as he watched the young monk, he began to see qualities that he never believed could be associated with such a lowly form of life; qualities of power, strength, and beauty. This revelation in of itself came a quite a shock to the demon lord, and he did not like the implications of his own thoughts. He would not tolerate having any endearing emotions for the race of creatures that had robbed him of his ultimate victory when they took his father from him. He knew he needed to put and end to the unwanted effect that the strange monk was having on him, and if that meant that he must feed the beast within the blood it craved, then so be it.

With his newfound conviction, Sesshomaru once again began to stalk his prey, but once again the monk managed to surprise him. As though the mortal has sensed his impending doom, he changed his stance from the flowing grace and beauty of nature's hidden strengths to become the very incarnation of untamed power. The dragon exploded from his very soul, lashing out against invisible enemies with all the impossible speed and ferocity of the ageless beast.

Such a transformation was unimaginable even for the demon lord who himself could change his form at will. But the monk had transformed not only his outward form, but also, it seemed the very essence of his nature. Instead of placid calmness and meditative reflection, he was now fire and rage, unbridled passion and fury. Like the dragon, he was unreachable, beyond the trivialities of existence and mortal time, beyond the reaches of any that would do him harm. He was majestic and noble; a creature of such dignity and magnificence that he demanded respect. And if there was one thing that the demon lord could respect it was this; this display of strength and exemplary valor, of wisdom and ethereal knowledge, of dedication and passionate conviction.

Never had he been so moved. Never had he been so humbled. Never had he felt so compelled to do nothing but embrace the torrents of emotions encompassing his soul. He could not begin to fathom how such a seemingly simple act could make him feel as though there were nothing more beautiful in the whole of the universe; how a once so hated creature could become the most inspiring image, and the most valued treasure. If he had ever the will to take the life of someone so precious, he refused to remember. If he had ever the urge to do anything but admire the captivating man, he would not admit it.

But before he could divulge any further past the surface of his own feelings, as quickly as they had sprung forth and as strongly as they had surged, with a stiff bow of completion from the monk, they were once again pulled beneath the frozen lake of his conscious mind; leaving him only with an unbearable emptiness that, for the first time in his life, he wished was not due to the inexplicable void in his heart. He couldn't bear to see the wondrous being once again transformed into the fragile and weak creature that was its true form, so he turned away, leaving the monk behind to his own reflections as he left deep within his own.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The disappearance of the hanyou Naraku weighed heavily on the minds and hearts of all those who had fallen into his web of chaos. The passage of another day was long for those who pursued that which was not seen; another day of painful separation, another day of failed redemption, and another day to be lost to the merciless fates. When night finally descended, and the façade of jubilance and serenity brought on by the brightly burning globe of the sun faded, all that remained was apprehension, fear, desperation, and the seething hatred against the one who had been the cause of so much pain, suffering, and loss.

Miroku excused himself once again from the warm embrace of camaraderie that surrounded the small camp of his companions to venture out in search of that which he so desired, of that which he could not have. Somehow he found his way to the oasis, the place where time had miraculously stood still for him long enough to know the wonders of being a man alive in the world. He entered slowly and reverently, respecting the calm serenity and untouchable beauty. The night air held a chill to it, though not enough to make him cold, it magnified the ethereal nature of the place in which he found himself by causing the steamy mists rising from the heated waters to envelop the land, and surround him in a milky world of heavenly bliss. Miroku removed the small bundle he had been carrying, and along with his folded outer robe, set it underneath a tree. Now, dressed only in his training slacks, he began to stretch in preparation of the long battle of will he had set before himself.

Not far away, another presence was seeking refuge from the savage thoughts that came along with the darkening sky. His direction had been set, and the destination chosen, but as he approached on this night he found himself strangely aware of the apprehension gripping at his mind; an apprehension, he realized, that stemmed from a desire for the beauty of the unknown. He did not want to find peace in solitude on this night, rather he wanted for the presence of another, and not knowing whether his desires could be sated regardless of his wants, produced an unknown and unwelcome feeling. But as he neared his destination, he found the fates smiling down upon him, for the object of his fascination had already arrived.

Sesshomaru descended from the sky swiftly as to not attract any attention to himself and stole away behind the curtain of brush and fog to keep concealed. Before him, the monk had already begun his routine, only tonight he graced the Lord with an image that suited well to his savage mood: the image of a wild beast. Graceful and strong, fierce and aggressive, valiant and predatory: thus was the tiger. Were it not incapable for the vocal chords of humans to produce, the demon Lord would have expected to hear the animalistic vibrations of ferocity to come from the creature before him. Once again he became lost; once again he was mesmerized by the exquisite dance.

As the form finally ended, Sesshomaru watched the Monk disappear behind the veil of fog that surrounded the area. He was not satisfied, but yet he was content. It was strange that something so simple could intrigue him so. He should have killed the mortal when he had first seen him, he knew that now. For after he had experienced the thrill of watching the lone mortal fight against his own trappings and conquer his own weaknesses, he knew that he had found respect for a being that he swore would always be held as only vermin in his minds eye. Now he was at a loss as to what to do. If he left this place, he knew he would be drawn again the next night, but if the object of his fascination was not to appear, what would he do then? He should not care. He should never again return to see the spectacular display. But then why did he find the idea so distasteful?

So lost in his thoughts, Sesshomaru almost missed the sound of something speeding towards him. With his lightning reflexes he managed to catch the offending object, and slowly lowered his gaze in astonishment when he felt the hilt of a sword in his grasp. This was not a true sword, though it was balanced with incredible accuracy and molded to his hand perfectly, it was carved from wood. It did not take any ability of deduction to know that this was an instrument for practice, but why had it been offered to him? Apparently his attempt to remain hidden had not been successful, and in his hand lay the proof. The monk had not left the clearing as he had assumed, but rather found his way around the outer limits of the sanctuary to come up behind the demon Lord.

Miroku stood his ground defiantly, even though he knew that at any moment the demon in front of him could cut him down for even having the audacity of approaching him, but he refused to back down. If Sesshomaru wanted to take part in his nightly routine, the least he could do was partake of it with him. Miroku watched the demon Lord carefully analyze the mock weapon given to him. Miroku had obtained the sword the previous day when passing through a village on the off chance that Sesshomaru would return. He had been fairly certain that he would though because the fact that he had not revealed himself, even though his anger could be felt penetrating the small enclosure, made Miroku believe that there was another reason why he had been left to his routine instead of gutted on the spot by an enraged demon.

When Sesshomaru finally looked up from the wooden toy in his hand to the monk standing several yards away, he was particularly amused. Not only had the human detected his presence when he had sought to hide it, but he had confronted him on his intrusion with a challenge of combat while ensuring the non-lethal nature of the match, all without uttering a word. If it was possible, the respect Sesshomaru held for this mortal being increased even more with this one silent request, and he had no intention of backing down from it.

Miroku watched as a tiny smirk appeared across the usually stoic expression of the Western Lord, and prepared himself for the oncoming assault. He knew enough about the stoic yokai that when he smiled it meant trouble. In one swift movement Sesshomaru was upon him, but he graciously refrained from using his demon speed. Miroku expertly blocked the attack with his staff, which out of fairness to the practice nature of the bout, was also carved from wood. As he blocked with one end of his mock-weapon, he swung out with the other in his own attack, but the demon was prepared and spun away from the threat before righting himself to begin his attack anew.

And so it continued, under the blanket of the night, the two beings who had met only as enemies, spared as equals. Each eventually finding small weaknesses in the other's attacks and stealing slight victories before they were once again brought down without ever hitting a mark. As always though, nothing can last forever, and a victor needed be named.

Sesshomaru brought his sword down heavily upon the monk, and as it collided with the abused wooden weapon, a loud snap was heard cascading off the surrounding rocks, and Miroku was forced to the ground. Not ready to admit defeat, the monk took hold of the pieces of his broken staff, and reset his stance to accommodate the two weapons. He launched another attack, but before it could be completed, Sesshomaru managed to step inside the monk's frame, dislodging one of his weapons before his own came to rest inches in front of Miroku's throat.

They stood there for a moment, frozen in time and space, locked in a battle of minds after the long physical battle. An understanding seemed to pass between the two men in that moment; an understanding that they would take with them after they left this place behind and continued on their own respected journeys. They knew that they could never be friends, but at the same time they could no longer be enemies. So, as the competition between them came to an end, and they stepped away from each other, one giving a bow of respect, and the other giving a nod of acknowledgement, they went their separate ways content with the knowledge that they had found a place with the other somewhere between enemies and friends.


	2. Chapter 2: To Make You Feel My Love

I guess that inspiration comes at the strangest times. I have been trying to work on another story, which I have finally managed to get the first few chapters done for so that I can move on to parts already written, and this idea just kept coming back to me and wouldn't leave me alone. So I decided to follow up on it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. (Well that was short and sweet and to the point! Oh if only everything could be so easy.)

The words to the song in this chapter are marked in bold. It is entitled 'To Make You Feel My love' and is performed by Garth Brooks (A/N this song is the most hauntingly beautiful, dark and foreboding, and painfully sad love song that I have ever heard.)

To Make You Feel My Love

**When the rains blowing in your face**

The heavens opened and released their tears, as though they knew the sacrifices that had been made on this night. The ground had been soaked in the blood of both friend and foe. None had escaped injury in the ultimate battle. It had raged on for what seemed like and eternity, but neither side could find an opening to strike the final blow. That was, of course, until he had come and finished it all. He had saved them all from their miserable fates, and defeated the darkness against which they were facing. But the cost had been higher than any could have imagined.

**And the whole world is on you case**

They had wanted him to join in the celebrations. The evil force known as Naraku had finally been defeated, and the Shikon was once again whole and in the protective hands of the pure and gentile priestess from the future. But even though he was surrounded by the happy faces of his friends and allies, even though now he had the life that he was meant to live and he could be as any other man and have the chance at happiness without the constant reminder of his own mortality; he could find no joy in his heart. He knew he could never truly find happiness again without what had been lost.

What was he now to do? How was he to go on without the strength and determination of the one that had supported him in his darkest hour when he believed that his life had come to an end and that no efforts made could ever undo the curse placed upon him? Where was that strength now? How was he to find the reprieve from the madness descending upon him as he had found wrapped in those arms?

**I would offer you a warm embrace**

If only the hands of time could be turned back to that moment. If only he had said the words that had sprung forth and called out from his soul. If only he could have found the courage.

**To make you feel my love**

But he had not the courage, nor the strength for such things. He was mortal, and as such his fears made him weak. He could never have been what he so desperately wished he could be. He had turned away from it and now was paying the price for his mistake. For now he could never know. Now all hope that was had been lost.

**When the evening shadows and the stars appear**

Slipping into the dark shadows of the night he fled from his companions. He could no longer bear their happy faces or their gleeful voices. They did not care; they could never understand. On through the night he walked, stealing through the shadows as a phantom; one lost in the darkness and horrors of an unjust life.

Around him the crisp night breezes cut through the dampness of his robes, but he could not feel it for he had become numb of all feeling but the pain in his heart. There was no noise. Even the buzzing insects that always appeared in the shadows and the birds and animals that would hunt in the darkness of the night were nowhere to be found. There was only the silence, and the deafening roar of his conscience telling him that he had failed, that he had been the cause of this travesty, and that now he was alone.

**And there is no one to dry your tears**

Cutting deep paths down his face the salty water fell uninhibited. Alone in his grief there was no reason to hide the pain that was embedded in his soul.

He walked on, heedless of the world around him or of the path he was taking. When he stopped, he was in a world set apart from time and reality.

Surrounded by high-rising rocks that, from the outside, looked like a solid projection; the oasis stood. Ancient trees grew uninhibitedly skyward, stretching out their limbs until they tangled together intricately with those of their neighbors, crating a canopy thick and lush and green. Below the upper levels, climbing vines wound their way up the massive trunks and brought beauty to the dark wood with splashes of green leaves and beautiful white blossoms. Lower still, the bushes grew thick and heavy, but graciously without the presence of thorns that would steal away the comfort and safety of the place.

He pushed through the thick undergrowth until he reached the clearing. Soft, lush grasses which grew abundant and happy in the small field surrounding the life-giving water of the oasis danced and bent lightly about with the soft breeze that managed to find its way though the protective rocks. At the centre of the clearing lay the beautiful pond. Placid and soothing, its waters reflected the soft blinking of the stars overhead that had finally emerged from under the covering of the ominous clouds.

It had been here where it had begun. Here where enemies had found a way to look past that which set them apart. Here where he could have spent the rest of his days and beyond in warmth and safety and comfort.

**I could hold you for a million years **

If only he had known what was to come. If only he had given heed to the calling of his heart and not the plaguing uncertainties and doubts placed upon him by his mind. If only he could have found a way to bridge the chasm of his own fears. If only he had been able.

**To make you feel my love**

It was here that he had made the decision that he would forever regret. It was here that he had left behind the one that he knew had captured his heart. It was here that the words spoken to him on that fateful night still echoed hauntingly through the serene enclosure.

**I know you haven't made your mind up yet**

**But I would never do you wrong**

**I've known it from the moment that we met**

**There's no doubt in my mind where you belong**

But he hadn't believed. He couldn't.

How could he stand before someone of such magnificence and believe himself an equal? How could he be anything more than what he was: a man lost in a harsh and unfeeling world? What had he to offer to one who had everything? What could he give when he believed himself to have no worth, and could not imagine that the other could see him any differently?

But how wrong he had been to believe that he was the only one who had felt the strength of the bond between them. How foolish he had been to walk away when all that he needed to do was reach out to find the peace that he so desired. And now it was too late for them, too late for him, too late.

**I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue**

With an anguished wail cast into the heavens, he sank to his knees in despair. He could not go on. Even as his life had begun anew since the curse had been erased, he had nothing left to live for. All his hopes and all his dreams had been taken from him along with the only one who could have been his savior.

In the distance, the storm raged on. Rolling thunder reverberated against the rock faces surrounding him, and sharp flashes of light brought down to the earth in searing bolts were reflected against the polished metal of his blade.

**I'd go crawling down the avenue**

With the last of his strength he pulled himself from the bloodstained ground. Slowly, painfully, he made his way to lie on the shore of the gentile waters where he could stretch out upon the lush grasses one last time and watch the beauty of the night fade away. Only this time he would do so alone.

What would he give if he only had one more moment to say what he only now could? Would he be given that time now? A moment was all that he needed; a moment to reach beyond where he had been and where he would go so that he could have his final wish.

**There aint nothing that I wouldn't do**

**To make you feel my love**

On the edges of his failing vision he could see the swirling masses of dark clouds spreading over the distant horizon.

**Storms are raging on a rolling sea**

They had been there during the battle, hanging ominously over the warriors below, twisting and churning and rumbling their warnings of horrors yet to come; horrors which replayed now within his minds eye.

**Down the highway of regret**

Naraku's minions had come in swarms too many to count. They had rained down upon the band of unusual companions in a never-ending barrage of snapping jaws, serpentine bodies, and malicious intent. Thousand of the beast had fallen against the determination and will of those who fought them. Cut to pieces upon being exposed to the sharp edges of their blades, slashed through by the unstoppable wound of the wind, or their evil turned to dust upon confronting that which was pure; they had fallen. But still they kept coming: their number only seeming to grow while the band of warriors standing against them began to weary.

And from the midst of the swarms emerged the hideous monster that had brought them all to this point. Consumed and subverted by the promise of insurmountable power, Naraku had become one with the darkness tainting the precious stone that he had coveted for so long. He was no longer recognizable as a being of this world. He was only darkness and malice, hatred and greed, and all that was evil.

The beast lashed out at them, striking cowardly blows from behind the protective wall of his minions. There was nothing that they could do, for every attempt to break through the masses had failed, and one by one they had been struck down.

Inuyasha had been the first, a gaping hole full of poison pierced through his chest; he fell to the ground writhing in agony. Next had been Kouga when he sought to protect Kagome as she kneeled by the side of the injured hanyo. The remaining jewel shards still carried in his legs had been ripped free by the fangs of a vicious serpent, leaving him lame and unable to resume the fight. After the fall of their leader, the members of the wolf pack had fled, taking with them their reluctant alpha. Without the strength of their demon allies, the humans stood no chance against the encroaching hordes.

In an attempted retreat, Kirara had been knocked down from the air by one of Naraku's slick and slithering tentacles. With her fall, that fire cat brought down with her Sango and Kagome, who cradled in her arms the battered and beaten form of the man she loved.

Miroku had been the last. He stood protectively in front of his fallen comrades, vowing silently that somehow he would find the strength to put an end to the madness. Disregarding the fact that the Saimyoushou buzzed hungrily over the battlefield, Miroku unleashed the curse set upon him by the villainous Naraku and opened the wind tunnel for the final time.

**The winds of change are blowing wild and free**

Into the void the screaming creatures were pulled by the thousands. But with each new addition to his cursed hand, the tear in his life-force would spread, and the poison from the hell-borne insects would grow.

It was when he knew that the battle had been lost, when he could no longer even stand on his feet, and when he had been forced by the intensity of the pain and the fear of ending any hope for those still stationed too near to him to close off the wind tunnel that had been his last defense; that he had seen him.

**But you aint seen nothing like me yet**

Like a bright angel descending into the pits of hell, Sesshomaru had stood out against the blood red of the soaked ground and the penetrating darkness of the evil auras. He was the epitome of perfection. He was untamed beauty and grace. He was the avenging angel for those fallen and those still clinging to hope.

In one fluid motion he dispatched the hoards bearing down upon the kneeling monk with a blast of such power that the earth quaked in its intensity. Remnants of the horrid creatures rained down upon the pristine Lord, but none of their hideousness or putrid leavings could mar the gleaming image of ethereal magnificence.

Miroku watched in silent awe as Sesshomaru turned away from the demolished fragments of the evil minions and engaged in battle with source of all the darkness: Naraku. But the wicked creature would not go down so easily and his writhing form twisted and surged in fetid masses producing great spikes and spines with which he attempted to impale his opponent upon. But the efforts of the dark hanyo were no match for the speed or power of the great Lord, and soon his body lay in slithering pieces strewn across the bloodied battlefield.

In a final effort of self-preservation, Naraku erected a barrier around what remained of his tattered form. Still Sesshomaru was not deterred. In his hand, surging with the power he called forth, Tensaiga ripped through the air. Its power broke through those barriers seen and those that lay hidden. Through Naraku's defense and even through the barrier set up between the worlds of the living and the dead, the miraculous sword cut. But Naraku, infused with the stolen power of the sacred jewel, would not be so easily pulled into the awaiting hands of the fiery pits of the netherworld.

Sesshomaru took one last look behind him at the carnage formed by the raging battle, his sight finally settling on the lone figure still watching the terrible fray. In the moment when their eyes met, Miroku could see the intensity burning in the golden depths of the demon Lord's eyes. A message lay there; one for only him to know; one that would change him forever. He could see it clearly now. No longer was he trapped in the haze of uncertainty or doubt. No longer was he held captive by fear. Finally, he could see the truth that had been hidden from him, and finally he could hear the words spoken when there was no sound.

**There aint nothing that I wouldn't do**

**Go to the end of the earth for you**

**Make you happy make your dreams come true**

**To make you feel my love**

And then Sesshomaru turned away. Once again facing his dark opponent, he set aside his weapons and went foreword using only that which the gods had bestowed upon him. Using his claws and poison he wrenched from the protesting slimy mass of Naraku's body the remaining pieces of the powerful jewel. No longer in possession of his only real defense against such an enemy, Naraku could offer no form of retaliation when Sesshomaru latched on to his throat in a vice-like grip and dragged him through the awaiting portal into the afterlife.

And that was how it had ended. That was how the wicked creature known as Naraku had been defeated. That was how the magnificent demon Lord Sesshomaru had sacrificed himself to put an end to the destruction and horrors brought to the land by the hands of evil. And that was how Miroku had finally understood love, only to have it ripped away without having ever been able to express it.

So now he lay awaiting death, awaiting an end to the pain. He could feel his body growing cold, and his breaths had become shallow and infrequent. Soon, he thought; soon all will be as it was meant to be. But before his eyes closed for the last time, he was graced with the incredible sight of his angel coming to claim him, coming to take him home.

He was beautiful. The light of the moon danced upon his porcelain skin and his flowing silver tresses, surrounding him in a radiant glow. And his golden eyes, always so hard and cold, now were flooded with warmth and compassion.

So it was that with his angel by his side, Miroku passed into the waiting arms of death.

Strange, he had thought, that death should involve the feeling of his lungs filling with air, or of the pounding of his heart in his chest. But when he opened his eyes, he realized that death was not what awaited him, but rather life. It was not an angel he had seen, nor was it a ghostly projection, but Sesshomaru alive and well and returning to him in this place that had become sacred to them. And it had been Sesshomaru that had pulled him from his eternal slumber by once again using the power of Tensaiga, only this time he had used it not to take life but to give it.

He had indeed traveled to the ends of the earth to bring an end to the war, but he had returned. For death has no hold over the one who commands it, and it was in Sesshomaru's hands and his alone that such power lay.

Overwhelmed by the impossibility of the situation, Miroku reached out towards the man before him to be certain that he was real. Gently his hand touched the face of the angel and under his fingers he could feel the smoothness of his skin and the warmth radiating from him, and he knew that the creature before him was indeed real. Without thought, Miroku closed the distance between himself and his once enemy and pressed his quivering lips to those of the demon Lord.

Sesshomaru responded to the monk's touch and passion with his own. He had long ago given up fighting against the feelings invoked in him by the simple pleasure of the monks company, and now he merely reveled in the fact that Miroku had finally given in to what he had already known: that the bond they shared went beyond that of enemies or even that of friends.

Together, surrounded by the beauty of the oasis and secluded from the rest of the world, the two beings became one. The scorching heat of their bodies was cooled by the gentle mists of the spring, and the sounds of their passion were absorbed by the dense trees and foliage. But the memory of a love that allowed even the barriers of death to be overcome would always be kept within the towering walls. And days, years, even centuries after that night, those lucky enough to stumble into the lost beauty contained within the magical world of the oasis would be able to feel a passion like no other; one that burned through the soul with a fire so intense and so magnificent that it would fill the heart with such joy that it would almost overflow, and leave tears in the eyes upon the realization that such a feeling could exist and that somehow they had been lucky enough to experience it.

_The End_

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Please review.

This was more difficult than you could imagine. I am strongly against suicide, and I rarely will read stories that speak of it because I have seen the devastation and felt the despair that such an act can produce. I wasn't planning on writing about it, but somehow the words flowed from my fingers before I realized what I was doing, and I had to finish. And I realized that despite the path chosen by some, and the pain and sorrow endured by those who loved them; in the end we can find hope, hope for a future not yet written for those who manage to find the strength to carry on.


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